


Robins, Sparrows, and other Gotham Dwelling Songbirds

by UchiHime



Series: Batman X-overs and AUs [1]
Category: Batman - All Media Types, Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Young Justice - All Media Types
Genre: "You're a wizard Tim" is not said but it should be, Alfred is a Squib, Alfred is also a Potter, Alternate Universe - Fusion, Gen, Harry Goes to Gotham, Tim is a wizard, i changed the title because i hate the title
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-06
Updated: 2017-06-14
Packaged: 2018-09-28 14:27:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 11,620
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10116155
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UchiHime/pseuds/UchiHime
Summary: After his first year at Hogwarts, Harry goes to Gotham to live with his Great Uncle Alfred.A series of interconnected one shots told in no particular order that only pretends to have a coherent story line.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> For my own peace of mind, here’s a rough timeline.
> 
> Bruce and Alfred are immortal beings of indeterminate ages, because why does it even matter.  
> Dick is 11 when his parents die. Tim is 4. Jason is 7? Harry is the same age as Dick.  
> Tim is 7 when he figures out Dick is Robin, 9 when he starts stalking.  
> Harry goes back to England and Dick becomes Nightwing at 17. Jason is Robin at 13.  
> Tim is 11 when he finds about about magic. Dick/Harry 18. Jason is 14.  
> Jason is 16 when Joker “kills” him. Tim is 13.

**Harry Potter**

Hogwarts had been everything, and yet not at all, what he’d imagined it to be. Growing up in the Dursley’s boot cupboard, Harry had only ever dreamed of being swept away to a magical world. Well, actually he dreamed that he was secretly royalty and one day a king and queen would come and claim him as their missing son, or that his parents were really alive somewhere and they’d realize they’d made a huge mistake in giving him up and would come back for him and lead him into a happily ever after. He dreamed of family and belonging, and yeah, sometimes he dreamed of magic.

But it was all just dreams he’d never expected to come true. They were fantasies concocted to warm the heart of a lonely boy. His father wasn’t a king, he was a gambling drunkard who’d crashed his car, killing his wife and leaving his son orphaned. His parents weren’t out in the world looking for him and, as the Dursleys repeatedly told Harry, there was no such thing as magic.

But the Dursleys were liars. Harry wasn’t the left behind child of the scum of society, who existed solely to be a burden on “decent” people. Harry was a wizard. Harry was a wizard, and his parents were heroes. Heroes who had loved him enough to die protecting him.

Going to Hogwarts had been like having every dream he’d ever had become reality. It was a place where he could learn about his family and find a sense of belonging. 

It had started off practically perfect in every way, until the series of progressively worse events that resulted in him almost being killed by the same Dark Lord who’d murdered his parents. Harry had killed him. Not the Dark Lord, but the man he’d been possessing. Harry had killed him and he didn’t understand how, and Dumbledore’s explanation of his mother’s love seemed farfetched even by the standards of magic. How could love cause him to kill a man just by touching him?

And then Nicolas Flamel had asked to meet him. 

Flamel led Harry into a small room, but before he spoke, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a long thin stick, similar to a wand but not one. Flamel broke the stick in half and a puff of dark blue smoke poured from it. The smoke flooded the entire room, then disappeared in a flash.

“Instant privacy ward,” Flamel explained, stuffing the two halves of the broken stick back into his pocket. “I’m not actually a wizard, you see. I’m an alchemist, which is that awkward intersection between magic and science; I provide the science, and my wife the magic. It’s actually quite fascinating the things that can be achieved when the two branches of study are combined. These little sticks are just a small part of it. But enough about me. Tell me how you got involved in all this unpleasantness.”

Harry, still quite shaken over the fact that he’d killed a man, self-defence or not, had sat numbly in his seat as Flamel had plied the story of his school-year adventures out of him with cups of tea and a soothing presence. That soothing presence had grown steadily darker the more Harry talked, but Flamel constantly reassured Harry that the anger was not directed at him.

“It is as I feared,” Flamel said once Harry had concluded his tale. “I thought I’d recognized that infernal twinkle in Albus’ eye. He’s plotting big time, and I’m afraid you are in the middle of it.”

“But Professor Dumbledore didn’t do anything,” Harry had said with a frown.

“Didn’t he?” Flamel mused, lips pursed in distaste. The man sighed and looked Harry over. “You are an orphan, are you not?” Flamel asked suddenly. “Where will you be spending your summer vacation?”

Harry frowned. “I’d hoped I’d be allowed to spend the summer here. My aunt and uncle… they don’t like magic much… don’t like me much, but Professor Dumbledore says…”

“I can guess what Albus had to say. Well, we’ll just leave Albus to his scheming and hatch some schemes of our own.”

“What do you mean?” Harry asked, not daring to hope.

“I made a promise to a friend a long time ago that I would look after his younger brother, but I broke the promise. I’m so used to being detached from the wizarding world, and time really does seem to pass differently when you’ve lived centuries. I’d gotten wrapped up in one of my experiments as I am wont to do, and his brother, and his brother’s son were long dead before I’d even noticed. And though I know my friend would not hold me at fault, I can’t help but feel I’ve failed him. He’d trusted me and… well perhaps it’s not too late yet, Mr. Potter. Life Debts can be carried across generations, why not friendly promises?”

“I don’t understand,” Harry said.

“What I’m trying to say is, no child should have to call home a household where their best description of their guardians is ‘they don’t like me much.’ You will not be going back to your aunt and uncle.”

“But Professor…”

“Albus is always focused on what is best for the world as a whole, he cares little for the happiness and wellbeing on the individual when compared to that. I will not be able to save you from his machinations forever, because loathe as I am to admit there is usually a method to his madness. Rarely does he act without good reason, so if you’re the center of his latest schemes, there’s a purpose for it. No, I can’t keep you from him forever, but for a while I can take you out of his immediate reach and allow you the chance to grow into a person better suited for the burden Albus would have you carry.”

“But the Professor said I have to go back to my family.”

Flamel smiled. “Harry, your mother’s family is not your only family.”

Harry could only stare in surprise. It hadn’t even occurred to him to wonder about his father’s family, because surely if they were out there they would have already tried to lay claim to him. Who in the Wizarding World wouldn’t want the Boy-Who-Lived, after-all?

Flamel smiled wider and began to tell Harry his plan.

It was actually quite simple as far as “schemes” went. Nicolas would meet Harry on the Muggle side of King’s Cross Station, where Harry would quietly don his invisibility cloak and Flamel and his wife would provide something called an Alchemic Homunculus to return home with the Dursleys in Harry’s place. A week or so later, after Harry had safely arrived at his final location, Flamel and his wife would go the Surrey and use the homunculus to lay a false trail of Harry running away from home. There were more details to be hashed out, but the dark blue smoke from earlier began to make a reappearance, which Flamel said meant the privacy wards were beginning fall and speaking any more on the subject may lead to someone overhearing their planning.

He changed the subject to Harry’s health not a moment too soon, because Dumbledore chose that moment to knock on the door and let himself into the room.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why break up chapters over days when I can post everything I have written at once and get on with my life?

**Alfred Pennyworth**

The buzzer rang incessantly, as if the person behind it had all the right in the world to come-a-calling at such ungodly hours of the morning. Alfred had only retired to bed an hour prior, having stayed awake until Master Bruce had completed his nightly crusade and returned safely to the manor. It was a vigil Alfred kept every night, first alone and now with Young Master Dick at his side. 

With the occupants of Wayne Manor keeping a largely nocturnal schedule, explained away by Bruce Wayne’s supposed lifestyle of partying and decadence, most citizens of Gotham City knew better than to call upon the manor before noon. 

And yet, there was someone outside ringing the door buzzer at half six in the morning. Alfred opened the door, his tongue ready with a few sharp words that, while overtly polite, would make sure the visitor knew just how unwelcome their early morning arrival was. The words vanished before they could leave his mouth when he laid eyes on the man standing on the stoop.

“Old friend,” he was greeted. “It has been too long.”

The man before him looked exactly as he had the last time Alfred had seen him some thirty years prior. He was, quite frankly, one of the last people Alfred had expected to ever see at Wayne Manor in this day and age. “Only one of us seems to be getting old, my friend,” Alfred said despite his shock. “But I agree, it has been much too long. What brings you all the way across the pond to my doorstep?”

Nicholas Flamel offered what could have been considered a smile if it wasn’t so sad. He was standing awkwardly, as if there was something heavy in his arms that could not be seen. Every so often, he’d shift as if to adjust the weight in his arms to hold it more comfortably. “I really wish this could have been a social visit. I have missed you, old friend, but unfortunately I’ve come asking a favor, not of Alfred Pennyworth, but of the man he used to be.”

Nicholas shifted again, adjusting his invisible burden so he could have a hand free to pull back what Alfred now recognized as a cloak of invisibility, a very familiar one in fact. The sleeping boy in Nicholas’ arms could not have been more than eleven years of age. Alfred did not have to ask who the boy was, one glance at the scar on his forehead told all.

“Somehow,” Alfred mused, “I feel as though it is you that is doing me the favor. Best you come inside.”

#

The Bard himself had once said “All the world's a stage, And all the men and women merely players; They have their exits and their entrances, And one man in his time plays many parts…” 

Alfred would say his life was a play of three acts, not seven as Shakespeare would go on to say. And in each of those three acts, he carried a different name and played many many parts indeed.

Born Alfred Potter, to his parents he’d played the role of their precious only son, their heir, their pride and joy, their legacy. But when he’d turned eleven and a much awaited letter did not arrive, he was recast as their greatest failure, a disappointment, their shameful secret, a Squib. 

To his younger brother, born when Alfred was fourteen and their mother was right on the cusp of menopause, Alfred had, through no choice of his own, been nothing more than an extra standing in the background of his early life. His parents had not wanted him near their most precious second son, their last hope, for fear that he might infect him with the same noncontagious Squib-hood that infected Alfred himself. He’d wished to be a caretaker and friend and confidant to his brother. He’d loved that little boy from the moment he’d lay eyes upon him, loved him even more when his accidental magic manifested young and laid to rest all the fears of their family’s magic dying away. 

It would have been easier to take on the part of the antagonist and hate his brother for being everything Alfred failed to be, but there was not an easy life awaiting this small child who alone would shoulder the burden of the Potter Family Legacy. Alfred could not find it within himself to make this life harder with unjust hatred, so instead he placed himself at his brother’s side. He became his teacher, his guardian, his friend. He’d focused all the built up love he could not feel for his parents on to that little boy.

Alfred left home at age seventeen while his brother was still a bright eyed toddler wreaking havoc on the Potter Ancestral Home and endearingly calling him “Alf”. Alfred would only see his brother once more in their lifetime, decades after he walked out door of their family home for the last time, but he would never stop loving him.

Act two of his life came with the name Alfred Beagle, and there were innumerable roles to be played. First and foremost, that of a Muggle. Though categorized as a Squib, Alfred was not entirely without magic and he’d lived his whole life until that point in the Wizarding World. His knowledge of the Muggle world was very limited, and he would soon learn made up mostly of falsehoods, exaggerations, and stereotypes. He learns to blend in with the civilian Muggles of London, but he craved excitement and a purpose. He searches for that purpose by enlisting. 

In the army, he played the role of a field medic. He would never have the power to use a wand to cast spells, but he had a certain affinity for healing. He had resisted all the usual illnesses that plagued growing children, and every bump, bruise, or cut he’d managed to inflict on himself were always gone within a day (this had been part of the reason his parents had been so sure he couldn’t possibly be a Squib, despite the lack of any significant accidental magic performed by him). The first time his younger brother had fallen and bumped his head, Alfred had learned to use his healing affinity on others. There’s a brotherhood between soldiers, a sense of connection that Alfred had been searching for his entire life. To hold on to that connection, Alfred channeled all this magic into keeping his brothers-in-arms alive. 

This is where Nicholas Flamel, and his lovely wife Perenelle, would enter stage right, dragging with them memories of the world Alfred had left behind.

In his duties as a field medic, Alfred had managed to work himself to magical exhaustion three times, which is only a mild inconvenience for full wizards but potentially deadly for a Squib, and it was Flamel who saved his life. Alfred had not known the Flamels when he’d still been a part of the Wizarding World, but that was undoubtedly the part of his life they belonged to, so Alfred had been hesitant to let their friendship grow as it had, but he would never regret a moment he spent at Nicholas’ side.

It was Nicholas and Perenelle who helped Alfred make the decision to retire from the army. They did not care that he was a squib and a disgrace to the Potter family name. To them, he was their friend and he deserved a life better than the one he was living where he was constantly endangering himself by pouring his magic into saving other people's lives. But there was no way he could continue being a soldier if it meant having to limit the use of his magic and watching his brothers die. Alfred Beagle ceased his role as a soldier and instead became an actor allowing him to play a different role every night.

The skills he gained as an actor would lead him to playing the role of a teacher to the MI5 and later as a government agent for the MI7. And this would climax at him abandoning the role of Alfred Beagle altogether.

The final, but most important, act of his life was played under the name Alfred Pennyworth, butler and valet to the Wayne family. It was not a role he took to easily, and most of his early years was spent missing the life he’d once had. He’d honestly considered leaving the Waynes and returning to England and taking up his spot on stage again. But two things happened within days of each other that would change his mind.

Nicholas Flamel showed up on the Wayne Manor’s doorstep one overcast afternoon with the beloved younger brother Alfred hadn’t seen since he was seventeen standing at his side. His brother was a long way from the bright eyed toddler in Alfred’s memory. He was a grown man now, with a son of his own. Little James looked so much like his father at that age, it pained Alfred to see him. Seeing his brother again was bittersweet, and Alfred was almost relieved that the visit only lasted a few hours before the Potters had to return to England. Alfred would never see his brother and nephew again.

Two days later, young Bruce Wayne returned home from school showing signs of having been bullied. There was so much Alfred had never gotten the chance to teach his younger brother, having left home when the boy was still so young. Who knows how differently things might have gone had Alfred chosen to stick around. Looking at Bruce Wayne’s determined face, Alfred decided to stick around.

When Thomas and Martha pass away before their son reaches adulthood, Alfred takes on the role a lifetime: the role of a father.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is it. This is all I have written. I wanted to do more, but my brain fried. This only exist because someone who shall not be named over on tumblr is a filthy enabler when I said "talk me out of writing another ridiculous crossover" they said "you should totally write that ridiculous crossover" and so I wrote this.

**Tim Drake**

Some people may argue that Janet Drake was not a good mother, but those people could mind their own business. Janet loved her son; had loved him from the moment of conception, til the first time she’d held him in her arms, loved him when he was too young to sleep through the night, and when he screamed endlessly for no apparent reason. There is no playbook for motherhood, and no rules for how she was meant to express her love, the only requirement was that she kept him fed and dry and relatively happy. She wasn’t the best at it, but she did  _ her  _ best.

When Timothy was nine months old, standing up by hanging on to the bars of his crib, Janet had come into his room with the intention of giving him a bottle, but her office phone had started ringing and she’d set the bottle on top of his dresser and went off to answer the phone, thinking it would be a quick call. 

Unfortunately, there was a minor disaster at Drake Industries that she spent the next hour on the phone trying to get resolved, expertly tuning out all distractions (including the screaming cry of her son) as she worked. When she’d finally returned to the nursery, it was to find Timothy sleeping in his crib, his empty bottle lying next to him. She figured she must have given him the bottle and forgotten, or one of the members of the hired staff had done so. If she’d thought to check the nanny cam, she’d have seen a red-faced Tim staring at the bottle on the dresser until it had floated across the room into his waiting hands. But there was no reason for her to check the nanny cam when she’d already come up with a logical explanation for events.

She would spend the next ten years of her son’s life coming up with logical explanations for events, even those that defied all logic. Janet was, after all, a woman of logic. She was also a businesswoman with the spirit of an archeologist, so if she spent more time abroad than at home than at home with her son and the strange events the caused, well Tim was old enough to handle her absence with some degree of maturity and was no longer completely reliant on her care. Her travels did not detract from the fact that she loved her son with all her heart.

She loved her son so much that she already had a plan in place for where his life would go, including the best possible education and skill training needed for him to one day takeover Drake Industries and raise the company to new heights, so that it could compete with powerhouses like Wayne Enterprises and Lexcorp. Tim was an incredibly bright boy and the future ahead of him is even brighter.

Which means that when Timmy is just a couple weeks shy of his eleventh birthday, she already has him enrolled in Gotham Academy middle school for the upcoming fall term, because it’s a nationally accredited school and the best Gotham City has to offer. She enrolls him as a boarding student, because this is the time for him to start making lifelong friendships with children who could potentially be future business partners, and partially because she knows being home alone all the time isn’t really what’s best for him.

Gotham Academy is what is best for him, which is exactly what Janet tells the man who shows up, uninvited and without making an appointment, on her doorstep one morning and tries to convince her to send Tim to some strange school she’s never heard of. Especially since he’s talking nonsense about things that don’t exist and believes he can fool her with his little party tricks. She knows a scam when she sees one. There is no such thing as magic, her son is most definitely  _ not _ a wizard, and she would not be paying money for her son to attend some ridiculous school that would have him believe otherwise. 

Janet Drake loves her son, Tim knows this. He reminds himself this when he’s hiding just outside the room where his mother is sending away the man who holds all the answers to the questions Tim no longer asks. He’d grown used to his mother’s logical explanation for illogical events; they leave him feeling hollow, because nothing she says really explains why he can do the things he does. 

He’d always thought he was a meta. “Magic” had never even crossed his mind, but as he watched from the window as the man walked down to the end of the driveway, then vanished into thin air with a sound like a gun firing, Tim couldn’t think of a more fitting word for it. He wasn’t a meta, he was a wizard. He held that knowledge in his heart, right next to where he held to knowledge that Dick Grayson had been Robin and was now Nightwing, Bruce Wayne was Batman, Jason Todd was the new Robin, and Harry Potter was…

Tim’s heart almost jumped out of his chest when he realized Harry Potter was a wizard, too! It made so much sense now.

Sparrow had left the city shortly before Dick had become Nightwing. Gotham City didn’t even notice his absence, because most of Gotham City didn’t know Sparrow existed. Tim himself had been following Batman and Robin across the city’s rooftops for weeks, and following their exploits in newspapers and on television for years, before he noticed the third member of their team. 

The news never reported on Sparrow, had even taken to calling Batman and Robin the “Dynamic Duo.” This was due to the fact that no one had ever  _ seen _ Sparrow.

The first few times Tim had seen a couple bad guys cry out in pain and drop to the floor when neither Batman nor Robin had done anything to them, he’d thought maybe he’d just missed something. When it continued to happen when there was no way Batman or Robin had acted without him seeing, Tim’s heart had started beating rapidly in his chest from excitement because he’d thought maybe Batman or Robin was like  _ him. _ That they could make things happen by will alone like Tim could. He’d never met anyone else who could do the things he could, but he was sure they had to exist out there somewhere. But then he’d seen Sparrow.

Batman could disappear into shadows, even Robin in his bright colors could hide himself when he didn’t want to be seen, but Sparrow was different. He appeared in the middle of the room, took down a couple of bad guys that Batman and Robin were unable to deal with at the time, then disappeared just as quickly. Tim tried to follow his movements; with quick eyes and a lot of effort he could track Batman and Robin when they blended into the shadows, but he could not find Sparrow no matter how hard he looked. He was completely invisible. 

And it wasn’t the same invisibility Tim could use on himself. Tim’s invisibility was comparable to a chameleon’s camouflage. He blended in with his background, but if someone knew where to look, they could see the outline of him and it was best if he stayed completely still because he was a trackable blur when in motion. 

He depended on his version of invisibility to stay off Batman’s radar as he followed them across rooftops. He willed himself to not be seen and knew it was working when there was a feeling like having an egg cracked over his head. He willed himself not to be heard and crept as close to Batman and Robin as he dared, close enough to hear the name of their unseen teammate.

Tim has only one picture of Sparrow in full view. Standing between Batman and Robin on a rooftop too high for anyone to plausibly find them, Sparrow appears out of thin air as easily as dropping his hood. At sixteen, Sparrow is only a couple inches shorter than Robin who is the same age. He has the same dark hair as Bruce and Dick, though it was messier than Dick’s carefully combed hair. His uniform a mix of Batman’s black and Robin’s splash of color: a black tunic with red sleeves and gold accents, plain red shorts on top of black leggings, and a cape made of some silky looking silvery material. He wore the same yellow utility belt as Robin, but instead of Robin’s mask or Batman’s cowl, he wore red tinted goggles resembling, of all people, Catwoman.

Batman’s hand had landed on Sparrow’s shoulder as he spoke words too low for Tim to hear, but had caused Robin to laugh in boyish delight. The smile Sparrow had awarded them was almost shy, but at the same time so warm and happy, Tim had been honored to capture it on film. 

Tim hadn’t figured out Sparrow’s secret identity right away. He’d figured out Dick, which had led to Bruce, but he hadn’t known of any other child close enough to Bruce Wayne to become another partner to Batman. That is, until, he spent a day watching Wayne Manor and saw the second child living there. Harry Potter was not Bruce Wayne’s ward, but Alfred Pennyworth’s. He had green eyes that were almost inhumanly bright, though they were partially concealed behind stylish rectangular glasses (which explained why he had goggles instead of a mask, probably easier to put a prescription there than in whiteout lenses), and an unmistakable bird’s nest of dark hair.

Harry did not garner the same media attention as his housemates, in fact it seemed as if he was purposely hidden from view. Even during the many Wayne parties at the manor, when Dick and Bruce were on full display and Alfred was there in the background if one cared to look, Harry Potter was nowhere to be seen.

Tim had felt like he was the only person in the world who knew about Harry Potter, save the other residents of Wayne Manor, of course. The existence of Sparrow became the greatest secret Tim held. And in the strange way that children do, he started to think of Sparrow as  _ his. _

Batman and Robin belonged to Gotham City, they were the Dark Knight and Bright Son of Gotham’s worst and best parts, but Sparrow belonged to Tim. The unknown player that worked just as hard, did just as much good as the other two, without the acknowledgment and accolades was  _ Tim’s. _

So of course, just like everyone else that was Tim’s, Sparrow left.

Sparrow left and Robin became Nightwing, and then Jason Todd moved into Wayne Manor and took over the Robin mantle. Sparrow had been gone a full year by the time Tim had learned of magic and made the connection that the other boy was also a wizard. There was nothing he could do with the information so Tim focused on trying to learn the limits of his magic while standing on the outside looking in at the family he could never be a part of.

Until, suddenly he was a part of the family. The opportunity came in the most unexpected of ways. Two years after Tim had learned of magic and was sent off to attend Gotham Academy, Jason and Batman had both left Gotham, but not together. Batman chasing the Joker, Jason chasing something else. A week later, Sparrow showed up in Tim’s dorm room.

“This isn’t how I wanted us to officially meet,” Sparrow said in his lilting British accent, sitting in Tim’s desk chair as if he belonged there. He sounded tired and looked uncomfortable in his costume. “I’ve been watching you for probably as long as you’ve been watching us. Did you get my packages?”

“Packages?” Tim asked, just a bit in shock over the fact that one of his  _ heroes _ was standing right in front of him,  _ talking _ to him.

“The books. The wand?”

“You sent those?” Tim asked in surprise. A few months after Tim had learned that the things he could do was real magic, a package had been delivered to his bedroom by owl. It had contained a set of textbooks about different branches of magic and a wand “ _ red oak and phoenix feather, it may not work well for you, as the wand is meant to choose the wizard, but it’ll be better than nothing. Good luck. _ ” The wand had worked perfectly for Tim.

On the first of September the next year, Tim had received another package of textbooks, and again the September after that. And at Christmas he’d received a camera and potion to use during development that resulted in moving photographs. Tim had thought the man from the school that his mother had turned away was the one sending the packages, it never occurred to him that it could be from  _ Sparrow _ .

Sparrow gave a casual shrug in reply. “It was silly of your mom to deny you admittance to Ilvermorny. You could consistently cast a disillusionment charm on yourself without even knowing what it was. Who knows what you could achieve with proper training, or the disasters that could befall without it. I’d considered setting you up with the same private tutors I had back when I was living in Gotham full time, but I wasn’t sure how to convince B of it. Sending you some coursebooks was the least I could do.”

“I really appreciate it. You didn’t have to.”

Sparrow sighed. “Yes, I did. I needed you to get some kind of training for the very same reason I’m here tonight.”

“And why is that?” Tim asked hesitantly. 

“Robin is hurt. Really bad. He’s going to be out of the game for a long time. He’d have died if he hadn’t activated the emergency portkey I gave him. B is blaming himself. I’m worried about how this is going to affect Batman. Nightwing won’t come back, and I don’t blame him. He’s outgrown Batman’s shadow and I won’t try to force him back into it. I’m needed in England; there’s a war and a prophecy and I can’t keep running away from it. And, I think I’ve outgrown Sparrow just as much as N has outgrown Robin. I believe it’s time to pass the baton, so to speak.”

“You mean…”

“I’d like you to be the new Sparrow. There’s no one else I’d trust at Bruce’s back.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There was like the bare minimal of thought put into Tim's wand. The "Gotham City is in New Jersey" thing someone mentioned at some point led me to google "what's that state tree of New Jersey" which turned out to be the Red Oak. And that pretty much decided it, but then on a whim I asked "what's the pottermore red oak wand mean" and well
>
>> You will often hear the ignorant say that red oak is an infallible sign of its owner’s hot temper. In fact, the true match for a red oak wand is possessed of unusually fast reactions, making it a perfect duelling wand. Less common than English oak, I have found that its ideal master is light of touch, quick-witted and adaptable, often the creator of distinctive, trademark spells, and a good man or woman to have beside one in a fight. Red oak wands are, in my opinion, among the most handsome.
> 
> if that ain't just perfectly suited for Tim. 


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did someone say this fic needed more Dick Grayson? No? Well, have more Dick Grayson anyway. This chapter takes place when Dick and Harry are 17-ish, so chronologically it goes before the previous (Tim) chapter. Dick and Harry are still Robin and Sparrow, no one has heard of Jason Todd, and Harry hasn't returned to England yet.

**Dick Grayson**

He only knows Harry has sat down beside him on the roof’s ledge because the other boy had purposely brushed against him. Despite all the magic and magical artifacts Dick has seen in the last six years, he still thinks Harry’s invisibility cloak is the coolest thing ever. It had been Dick’s idea for Harry to use the cloak in place of a regular cape, and he only regretted it sometimes. Unlike Bruce, who always seemed to know where Harry was, cloak or not, Dick was constantly getting snuck up on by the boy he thought of as his younger brother. Harry was actually a few months older than Dick, born in July of the same year Dick was born in November, but that didn’t really matter. Dick was taller, that made him the big brother.

Harry lowered his hood and let his cloak fall open, revealing him in his full Sparrow costume: red and black and gold that did a better job at blending in with the night than Dick’s green and red and yellow. Despite the uniform differences, they belonged at each other’s side. Robin was Sparrow’s partner as much as he was Batman’s partner. Sparrow was Robin’s partner almost more than he was Batman’s. Robin and Sparrow belonged together, they had each other’s back, always.

But, as much as he’d loved it when he’d first put it on all those years ago, Dick couldn’t help but feel like the Robin costume was starting the chafe. Not literally, of course, Alfred would never let them go out in costumes too small for them, but figuratively. Dick wondered if maybe he was outgrowing Robin.

“Penny for your thoughts?” Harry asked, he spoke as softly as he always did. When he’d first moved into the manor, Dick had thought Harry incapable of making a sound louder than a whisper. Alfred had told Dick that Harry’s former guardians hadn’t been the nicest of people and Harry had grown up learning to be both unseen and unheard. Dick had wanted to catch a plane to Surrey and let Harry’s former guardians know just what Robin thought of child abusers.

But it hadn’t taken long to get Harry to relax and open up to them; to laugh loudly and freely, to ask for the things he wanted without fear of being denied, to run indoors and slide across Alfred’s freshly polished floors in his socks, to sneak junk food with Dick instead of just being grateful for whatever was given to him, to beg to stay up just ten more minutes,  to just be a kid like any other. 

By the time Sparrow joined Batman and Robin on the streets, Harry was only invisible when he wanted to be.

Dick sighed and looked out over the rooftops below him. It was strange. Growing up in a travelling circus, he’d never thought of “home” as a place. Home had always been defined by the people he was with. When his parents died, Dick had never thought he’d have a home again. But somehow, Gotham City had become home. And maybe it was still because of the people, because Gotham CIty is where Bruce and Alfred and Harry and Babs lived, maybe they were what made it home.

“I heard you talking to A,” Dick told Harry. “You’re going back?”

This time it was Harry who sighed and looked down over their city, swinging his short legs through the air, the heel of his red boots scuffing against the building’s side. “Yeah,” he admitted. He slid a finger under the edge of his goggles and rubbed at his eyes. It had always intrigued Dick how magic could do so many amazing things, but it couldn’t do something seemingly as simple as curing Harry’s terrible nearsightedness. “This was… we always knew me being here was only temporary. Just until I was old enough, just until I learned enough, just until I was strong enough. I was never meant to be here forever. They need me there.”

“Why not?” Dick asked and his voice revealed more than he’d wanted it to. Sometimes he couldn’t help but wear his heart on his sleeve, and the thought of Harry leaving was breaking his heart. “Why do you have to go back? Why are they so important? Who are they to you anyway? Just some people you knew for like nine months, six years ago! Why can’t we be your home?”

“Dick,” Harry said softly, breaking the no names in the field rule. He placed a hand on Dick’s knee and squeezed it reassuringly. “I never had a home before I came here. My mom’s family made sure I knew every day that my presence in their house was an unwelcome burden, that I didn’t belong with them. And when I went to school, everyone already had so many expectations of me just because of something that happened when I was too young to remember. And I was willing to break my own neck just to live up to those expectations, because I was terrified of everyone thinking I didn’t belong there either. 

“And then I came here and I was welcomed, and there was no expectations. I was allowed to just be me. I got to choose the person I would become. And you and B and uncle, you all loved me unconditionally. And that’s what made it home. And honestly, I never want to leave.”

“Then why are you leaving? Why aren’t we enough?”

“B didn’t raise us to be so selfish. As much as I want to stay, they need me. I’m needed more there than I am here. I can’t in good conscious just hide here when there’s something to be done that only I can do. That’s not the man I was raised to be. I’m going back to fight a war that I’ll only be able to win because of the things I learned here. Because of the skills you and B gave me.”

“I’m going to miss you,” Dick confessed.

“I’m going to miss you, too,” Harry replied without hesitation, “but this, me going back there, it isn’t forever either. I’m not going home, Dick. This is my home. Gotham City is my home now. You, B, and Uncle are my family. I couldn’t possibly leave forever.”

“I know that. The thing is… I guess I kinda envy you. You get to take the things B taught us and put it to use elsewhere. You get to leave Gotham behind and become your own man somewhere else and I’m just… I’m just stuck here. I don’t have a great destiny out there waiting for me. I think of my future and I see myself fighting crime on the streets of Gotham for the rest of my life, because I don’t know any other way to live. I’m going to be Robin: Boy Wonder, Batman’s sidekick for the rest of my life.”

“Says who?” Harry asked. “Where is it written that this is all there is for you? You want to fight crime for the rest of your life, go for it. But who says it has to be in Gotham? Who says it has to be as Robin? Who says it has to be at Batman’s side? What’s stopping you from taking the things B has taught us and putting it to use elsewhere? Who even says you have to fight forever? What’s stopping you from hanging up the cape and learning to live a normal life?

“God, Dick, if anything I should be envying you. I’m going to England to kill a madman because there is a literally a prophecy saying I have no other choice. I have to  _ kill _ him. That goes against everything we believe in, but there’s nothing I can do about it, because it’s written in the stars or some shit. I don’t have a choice. But you do. You have a choice. You don’t need a destiny. You don’t have to cross an ocean and fight a psychopath to become your own man. You’re only stuck if you choose not to move.”

They’d never tried to keep Batman a secret from Harry. When Nicolas Flamel had first brought Harry to their doorstep, he had told them in no uncertain words that there was a war coming and Harry was to be in the front lines of it, and there was nothing they could do the change that. Harry had seemed to small for the destiny awaiting him. There was no way for him to shoulder the burden. 

So, they’d don everything they could to prepare Harry. Protection wards had be lain around the manor that extended all the way down to the Batcave. Tutors were found to take over Harry education in both magic and non-magical subjects. And with Alfred’s permission, Bruce had offered to train Harry. 

Dick had already been in training for a month with the intention of being Batman’s partner. Harry had joined in on Dick’s training, but there’d been no expectation of him to join Batman’s crusade, they were simply preparing him for the future. Harry had chose to become Sparrow.

It hadn’t been an easy choice to make. Dick and Harry had talked about it late into the night after Robin’s first few patrols. Harry appreciated all that Bruce was doing for him and he’d wanted to pay back that kindness somehow. Dick had told him that he didn’t have to pay Bruce back and he for sure did not have to wear a mask to do so. But Harry had also felt he needed more real life experience, if there was to be a war, training alone wouldn’t be enough. But Harry didn’t want to be a hero, didn’t want to be the same symbol that Batman and Robin were. And since he had to remain out of the public eye in case the wizards in England thought to look in America for their missing Boy-Who-Lived, becoming a vigilante was a risk even with a mask. Dick had told him that there was no rules to who he became, that he could choose to be whoever he wanted to be. 

And now, sitting on a rooftop six years later wearing masks and capes, Harry was telling him the exact same thing.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is set right before what would be Harry's second year at Hogwarts.
> 
> I've been sitting on this chapter for a while because I wanted to make it longer, but that didn't happen.

**Hermione Granger**

_ Dear Harry, _

_ I hope this letter finds you in good health. Professor Dumbledore recently visited my house looking for you. He said that you ran away from your relatives and that it was imperative to your safety that you return there as soon as possible. Despite my telling him I hadn’t seen you since getting off the train at Kings Cross, the professor insisted on having a look around the house and tried again to impress upon me the urgency of having you returned to your aunt. He was alarmingly persistent.  _

_ Harry, I understand why you would want to run away, as anyone with eyes could see that your relatives did not take good care of you, but Professor Dumbledore is right. It is not safe for a boy your age to be wandering around alone. Any number of things could happen to you. I can’t help but imagine the worst: you sleeping on the streets, being kidnapped and forced into sex trafficking, being taken in by kindly seeming strangers with hidden agendas. Even in the wizarding world, there are quite a few people who’d like to see harm done to the “Boy-Who-Lived.” _

_ I’m not going to insist that you return to your aunt, because I know you would not have run without good reason. I would just like to know you are safe. You don’t have to tell me where you are, but I hope you know my door is always open for you if you need a safe place. I would not turn you over, not even to Professor Dumbledore himself, if you do not wish me to. _

_ Please write back as soon as you can to let me know that you are safe. Also, we’re going school shopping next week and you should join us. _

_ Your friend, _

_ Hermione Granger _

-

Hermione,

First off, RELAX I’M SAFE. Second, sorry for how long this response took. It is not a short trip for Hedwig to make, and I told her to take her time. So you might be back at school by time you receive this, sorry. But I will say it again, I’m safe. I left my aunt’s house the second week of summer break, so if Professor Dumbledore is only now checking to see if I’m with you, I’d think he’s only just now noticed I’m gone. Probably only noticed when my Hogwarts letter didn’t reach me.

I cannot tell you where I am, except that I am safe and that I’m with family. And that I can’t send many letters because the trip really is too long for Hedwig to make often. In fact, I’m going to let her rest here a week or so before having her deliver this letter.

I can’t join you school shopping, because I will not be going back to Hogwarts.

Before you freak out, I am NOT dropping out of school. I will be home schooled by private tutors from now on. I’ve been told that I will receive the best education possible, probably better than I’d receive at Hogwarts, so don’t worry.

If Dumbledore comes back, could you possibly tell him you still haven’t heard from me? I know it’s an odd request, but if he knows where I am, he’ll try to make me go back to Aunt Petunia and I really don’t want that. And it’s not just my aunt and uncle I’m hiding from. I know the Professor seems like a good man, but he has an agenda and does not have my best interest in mind.

I’ve been told to tell you not to worry. When I’m needed most I will return, but until then, it’s better for me if I stay where I am.

I miss you, and I hope you had a good summer.

Your friend,

Harry Potter

-

_ Harry, _

_ I received your response the day before we left for school. Despite the warning that you would not be returning, I was still a bit disappointed not to see you. When we arrived at the school, Professor Dumbledore and Professor McGonagall cornered me and Ron asking if we knew where you were. As you requested, I said I hadn’t heard from you. But somehow the headmaster seemed to know about your letter.  _

_ Well, at least I think he knew. It was just something he said; he looked me right in the eye as he asked if we’d been corresponding and it was like he already knew the answer. There’s no possible way for him to have known, but it just seemed he did. It was like he could read my mind. But I’m sure that’s not possible, even with magic. Right? I should probably look that up. _

_ He told us to let him know the moment we heard from you. I don’t think further letters will be a good idea, because they’ll probably be watching my mail. _

_ How are you, Harry? I know you said you were safe, but is that still true? You also said you were with family, and I’d guess it’s your father’s side of the family since they have the means to arrange magical tutors for you. But I was unaware you had any family on your father’s side left. _

_ I looked up the Potter family tree in the library, Purebloods put so much importance on bloodlines and whatnot that it may not come as a surprise that there’s a self updating book containing the family trees of all on England’s most prominent families. According to the book, you are the last of the Potter line. Your father was the only child of an only child of a child whose siblings died before they could have children. You have a few distant cousins, but from what I see in this mess of inbreeding, most Purebloods are distant (and not quite so distant) cousins.  _

_ What I mean is, are you sure the people you’re with are actually family and not someone playing on an orphan’s hopes in order to get their hands on the Boy-Who-Lived? You said not to worry, but I can’t help but worry. How do I know your letter wasn’t written under duress? _

_ I also don’t like keeping secrets from our Professors. If you’re in some kind of trouble, Professor Dumbledore is best suited to get you out. He is, after all, the greatest wizard since Merlin. _

_ I don’t know about all of this, Harry. _

_ Ron is worried, too. He hasn’t heard from you and says his letters have all returned unopened. He thinks you might be mad at him or don’t trust him. You should write him and let him know that’s not the case. _

_ Please reply as soon as you can letting me know you’re safe. Also, tell me all about what you’re learning with your tutors. I’d love to know how comparable it is to a Hogwart’s education. _

_ Your friend, _

_ Hermione Granger _

_ - _

Dear Hermione,

I asked my guardian and tutors if magical mind reading was a thing we had to worry about. I’m not sure if your research uncovered it, but something like mind reading is possible. It’s called Legilimency and it can only be defended against by Occlumency. Occlumency has been added to the list of subjects I’ll be tutored on, though tutor did say it’s a hard skill to learn by someone under seventeen. Something about our minds still developing too much and being difficult to clear. I thought if anyone could learn it, it would be you. So you should look into it, and in the meantime, avoid making direct eye contact with the headmaster.

My tutor also said that a professor willing to use Legilimency, even passively so, on a student probably wouldn’t draw the line at reading students’ mail. With this letter, I’ll be sending two notebooks that my Charm’s tutor spelled for me. They’re connected by something called a “Protean Charm” which means that what’s written in one will appear in the others. I have one, and I’m sending one for you and Ron. This letter is also charmed so only you can read it. I did that charm myself. My tutor said the charm is sixth year material, so he was very proud of me for being able to do it. It wasn’t easy though. My tutor backed it with his own magic, so not even the Headmaster should be able to undo it.

The reason Ron’s letters were all returned unopened is because there are some really strong wards around the house here. They let through your letters, but Ron’s letters must have been drenched with tracking charms and blocked. The strongest ward weavers in the country were hired to put up these wards just to keep me safe. I’m sure Ron isn’t the one who cast the tracking charm, and whoever did were probably doing what they thought was best for me, but they’re not going to make it past the wards.

Tell Ron to write me through the notebook as soon as he can. I miss him.

I tell you all about my tutoring and what else I’m learning through the notebook. Though I’m just now starting to learn new things in every subject. The last month was spent being taught first year Defense and Potions, because my previous knowledge of it was “insufficient.” 

Did I mention that I’m also being tutored in non-magic subjects? It’s a very busy schedule. I feel like all I do here is learn with no time for play. I miss quidditch.

Write back through the notebook.

Talk to you soon,

Harry


	6. Chapter 6

**Young Justice Cartoon**

Harry wished he could be as excited as Dick was. Robin, Kid Flash, Speedy, and Aqualad all together for the first time and taking the first step into becoming full-fledged members of the Justice League was a pretty big deal. But, though Harry would be present, Sparrow wasn’t going to be a part of the excitement; he would remain hidden under this invisibility cloak the whole time, keeping the existence of Batman’s second sidekick a secret even from the League. 

The trick to maintaining a secret existence even while being surrounded by the superpowered protectors of the world was constant vigilance. 

Well, constant vigilance and having partners whose hypervigilance bordered on paranoia. That is to say, no one with any kind of common sense approached Batman or Robin from behind without somehow announcing their presence first for fear of a Bat-fist to the face. So an invisible person, read Sparrow, standing just behind Batman or Robin ran no risk of their existence being exposed by being bumped into. 

And in the case where someone lacked common, usually that someone is wearing red and yellow with feet moving too fast for their brains to keep up, a small perimeter ward always gave Sparrow ample time to move out of the way.

It wasn’t that Harry wasn’t allowed to reveal himself, in fact Bruce and Dick had encouraged him to do so many times right up until the minute they arrived at the Hall of Justice, but the secretness of Sparrow had been designed to protect Harry and had served to help Batman and Robin in more situations than one could count. No one knowing Sparrow existed meant no one expected Sparrow to swoop in and save the day.

Speedy’s tantrum and subsequent walking out made Harry glad he hadn’t revealed himself, but the following disappointment of being sidelined by the League hurt Harry as much as it did the rest of the sidekicks. 

Harry was all for heading to Cadmus against League orders, he let Dick know by… well the trick to communicating with your partners, while maintaining a secret existence while being surrounded by the superpowered protectors of the world was magic.

Well, originally the secret had been touch. Batman, Robin, and Sparrow had developed an entire secret language based around slight touches from the invisible partner. Where Harry touched, the number of fingers he used, how long he touched, the amount of pressure he applied, and quickly tapped morse code said everything Sparrow needed to say without ever having to speak aloud and risk being overheard.

But being close enough to communicate through touch wasn’t always possible, especially in situations where they were facing down enemies. So, as Harry had progressed in his magical training and learned more about the abilities of Batman’s allies and villains, Harry had (with only a little help from one of his tutors) developed a spell that acted like Martian Manhunter’s telepathy, allowing Batman, Robin, and Sparrow to talk to each other via a mind link. 

It was based around legilimency and wasn’t a perfect spell. The original version of it had required using a potion while casting legilimens and could only connect Harry to one person. The second version of the spell allowed Harry to connect to more people so long as he cast it while touching everyone he wanted to link with. The third version combined the potion from the original version and a completely new spell that wasn’t based on legilimency. It allowed Harry to connect his mind to anyone who consumed the potion, even from a distance.

The final, most effective, version of the spell incorporated the alchemy Harry had learned from Nicolas Flamel. The little sticks of contained magic the great alchemist had created with his wife really were convenient. The only requirement was breaking the sticks to release the latent magic within, allowing Batman and Robin to use it even without Sparrow present in situations where speaking aloud would be too risky. The sticks alone, however, had a time limit. To keep up the connection indefinitely required wizard to feed more magic into it. Without the sticks, the final version of the spell allowed Harry to connect his mind to anyone he pointed his wand at while casting the spell.

Batman, Robin, and Sparrow were almost always mentally linked when working outside of Gotham. The rumors of the Bat’s having secret conversations via facial expressions came from the fact that they were really having secret conversations in their head and Dick was unable to hide his expressions very long.

But sometimes magic telepathy wasn’t convenient and the Bats fell back on their language of touch. 

Being in an underground facility surrounded by “genomes” who used their own kind of telepathy and could potentially discover Harry’s magic telepathy if he tried to use it to communicate with Dick, was the definition of inconvenient. 

So Sparrow stayed in Robin’s orbit; fighting at his side as they’d done for years without Aqualad and Kid Flash knowing he was there. If he needed to communicate something to his partner, Sparrow silently moved into Robin’s personal space and used their secret touch language. 

A two finger touch on the left arm, mild pressure, moving from elbow to wrist in a quick slide. A hard push against his right shoulder with an open palm. Three fingers lightly pressed between his shoulder blades and held for a long second. Two letters tapped out in morse code on the back of his neck.

All of this conveyed information, warnings about danger up ahead, suggestions on which direction to go, potential plans of attack, and complaints about the situation as a whole. Entire conversations unable to be overheard or seen by ally or enemy, only interpretable by Robin or Batman.

When the newly freed clone of Superman had attacked and taken out Robin’s team, Sparrow had briefly considered revealing himself to fight the clone himself, but decided against it because he knew his own limitations enough to know that he didn’t stand a chance against someone who could take out Robin, Aqualad, and Kid Flash. He needed a plan of attack, unfortunately that was something he usually left up to Robin or Batman. 

Everything worked out in the end. They made it out of Cadmus alive, Sparrow helping where he could without ever revealing himself, they had a new friend in Superboy, and the “sidekicks” all but demanded the right to form their own team.

“You know you could be part of this,” Dick said as he packed up for a weekend at Mount Justice. “You don’t have to be a secret, not from the team. They’re our friends.”

“They’re your friends,” Harry stated.

“They’d be your friends too if they knew about you. They welcomed Miss Martian, no questions, they’d do the same for you. I just really want them to meet you.”

“I just don’t think it’ll be a good idea right now. Maybe one day in the future, but not now. Everything’s too new.”

Dick sighed. “Well, I can’t force you, so alright. Just know, there’ll always be space for Sparrow on the team.”


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jason is 17. Tim is 14. Dick and Harry are 21.
> 
> Tim has been Sparrow for a year, but he's currently using the Robin name while Jason is still recovering from the Joker almost killing him.

**Jason Todd**

The first time Jason calls Tim “the Pretender” in front of Harry, Harry’s hits him with a stinging hex. Rubbing his abused arm, Jason shoots a glare at Harry. “What was that for?”

“Don’t call him that,” Harry says calmly, but there’s a weight in his voice that makes Jason hesitant to disobey. 

Jason rolls his eyes and grumbles softly to himself as he turns away from the wizard. Harry’s only been stateside for about four days and he’s spent three of those days glued to Tim’s side, before deeming Jason worthy of his attention.

It’s been almost a year since Jason had nearly died and Ethiopia and Tim had become Sparrow while he was still in recovery. Jason’s first name for Tim had been “Replacement” because that’s what it had felt like he was. Jason was out of commision so Tim had been brought in to replace him.

Everyone swore that that wasn’t the case. Jason could still be Robin once he was back on his feet, but in the meantime Batman couldn’t be out there alone, but Dick and Harry couldn’t be at his side, so Tim it was.

Jason had fucked up. He knew he’d fucked up. He and his “mom” would have died if not for Harry’s magic teleporter thing. 

Emergency Portkey. Absolute last resort safety measure. Capable of transporting up to three people directly to the Batcave from anywhere on earth. All the Gotham vigilantes had one, but none of them had ever had to actually use it before. Until Jason fucked up.

There’d only been seconds left on the Joker’s bomb when Jason had remembered it was on his belt. He imagined he could still hear the explosion of the warehouse around him as the Portkey had activated and got Jason and Sheila to safety.

Sheila Haywood no longer remembered she had a son named Jason Todd. Jason had wanted it that way and Harry had made it happen.

Only a week after Ethiopia, while Jason was still in a hospital bed not able to even piss on his own, Harry had brought Tim to the Cave.

Harry had chosen Tim in the way Dick hadn’t chosen Jason.

Jason had worked with Harry before. The existence of magic hadn’t been a hard thing to accept. The biggest surprise was the existence of Batman’s second sidekick. The first time they’d met, Harry had just appeared in the Cave one night. Startled Jason so much, he’d instinctively taken a swing at him. Magic had not been needed to block Jason’s sloppy punch and pin him to the floor of the cave. Jason had growled and struggled against the older teen’s hold and demanded to know “who to fuck are you and how’d you get in here?”

Alfred and Bruce had chosen that moment to come down the stairs into the cave, Alfred carrying a tray with four cups of tea and looking unsurprised by the mysteriously appearing boy. “Harry, must you be so rough with Master Jason,” Alfred had asked. Harry had immediately released Jason and had flown into the butler’s arms.

Two nights later, Harry had suited up alongside Jason and joined him on patrol. He’d said they had to get used to working together, because Robin and Sparrow were meant to be partners the same way Robin and Batman were. 

Jason had quickly grown to like Harry. He’d never made Jason feel like a fill in for Dick the way Bruce sometimes did. And he’d never misdirected his anger towards him the way Dick did. To Harry, he was just Jason, and Jason was Robin, and Robin was Sparrow’s partner. He’d never made Jason feel as if his place in the family was at risk of being taken away. It didn’t matter that he wasn’t Dick. It didn’t matter that Bruce had stuffed another boy into Robin’s suit. Harry judged him as himself.

Maybe Harry’s easy acceptance of Jason as Robin should have made it easier for Jason to accept Tim as Sparrow, but it wasn’t the same. Tim wasn’t Sparrow; he was just a pretender and he would call him as such.

The look of disappointment in Harry’s eyes almost makes Jason feel bad. “He’s not Sparrow,” Jason says stubbornly.

“Then who is?” Harry asks. “Not me. I gave up the name.”

“That’s because you were needed and England, but you’re back now. So there’s no need for  _ Timmy _ any more. You can be Sparrow again.”

Harry just looks sad. “Jason, I can’t do that any more than Dick can be Robin again. I’m not sure if I even want to keep doing the vigilante thing. But if I do, I’ll choose a new name. One to use in Bludhaven as Nightwing’s partner. Tim is Sparrow now. You have to accept that,” Harry says. “You’re have to work together.”

“How am I supposed to work with the guy you brought in to replace me!” Jason demands angrily.

“Tim was never supposed to be your replacement,” Harry says. “He’s supposed to be your partner. Robin and Sparrow are  _ partners _ . They belong at each other’s side. Robin is Sparrow’s partner as much as he’s Batman’s partner. Sparrow is Robin’s partner almost more than he’s Batman’s. Robin and Sparrow belong together, they have each other’s back, always. That’s the way it was with me and Dick. That’s how I tried to make it with me and you. And that’s the way it’s meant to be with you and Tim. That’s why I brought him in when I did. I couldn’t be there for you, but you needed someone at your side. Yes, Batman needed a partner while you’re down, but Robin,  _ you _ needed a Sparrow and that wasn’t me.”

“But he isn’t Sparrow,” Jason says again, pointing an accusatory finger towards Tim. “He’s just Robin flying under different colors.”

And really that was the root of the problem. Sparrow had always been the invisible partner, the silent background player; he stayed below the radar and garnered no outside attention. Even when it was Harry patrolling with Jason as Robin, he’d stayed under his invisibility cloak and let Robin run the show.

But Tim wasn’t invisible. He patrolled openly at Bruce’s side and even answered to “Robin” when out in the field. For as much as they all claimed that Tim was really Sparrow, the rest of the world thought he was Robin.

“Jason, I thought you understood why it has to be this way for now.” 

Logically, Jason did understand. Everyone knew Bruce Wayne’s adopted son had been in a terrible accident that left him severely injured. If Robin disappeared at the same time Jason Todd went out of commision, it may just be one coincidence too many and would reveal the secret. Tim was “interim” Robin just until Jason could take back the mantel. 

For his first few months in the tunic, he’d used one of Harry’s magic potions to actually make himself into Jason so no one would notice he was a new Robin. Then Alfred had finished his new Sparrow suit, and Tim had switched to wearing that and no longer “polyjuiced” himself into Jason, but they’d covered his Sparrow symbol with a shuriken “R” so everyone still thought it was Robin.

“This isn’t new,” Harry said. “I patrolled as Robin a few times when Dick was hurt. It’s not a big deal. Tim’s skill set makes him more suited for the position of Sparrow, but Batman has to have a Robin at his side. Tim knows he’s only Robin until you’re cleared to take it back.”

If he was ever cleared. Almost a year after the Joker’s attack, Jason was still under careful watch. It had been a long, slow recovery so far. He was doing well in physical therapy, but Bruce still had a strict limit of how much Jason was allowed to do. And in the meantime, the Pretender was out there using Jason’s name and doing Jason’s job. 

By time Jason was well enough to take back his position, whose to say Bruce would even want him anymore. He was seventeen now, and that was the age where Harry had gone back to England and Dick had stopped being Robin. What was stopping Bruce from firing Jason, especially while Jason was just a useless invalid. What need of Batman for a nearly crippled partner? What need of Bruce for a son who couldn’t help him with his life’s work?

Jason says all this to Harry without consciously deciding to. That was the thing about Harry. He just had this aura about him the made it easy to open up. Harry was the keeper of all of Jason’s secrets. He knew every bad thought and insecurity Jason had. Harry was more of a brother to Jason than Dick was, and he saw Dick ten times more often than he saw Harry.

Harry got a soft look on his face that wasn’t actually pity, but still made Jason feel angry and defensive. “Have you talked to Bruce about this?”

Jason clenched his jaw and refused to meet Harry’s gaze. Of course he hadn’t talked to Bruce. What was he meant to say?  _ ‘Hey Bruce, I know I fucked up and I’m a failure as a son and a sidekick, but please don’t throw me away. You’re all I have and being at your side means more to me than life itself? And if you take Robin away from me, then I might as well have died in that desert, because I’ll have nothing left anymore.’ _

Harry sighed. At that moment, he looked a lot older than his twenty-one years. “Jason, before I left for England, Dick told me he’d felt like he was outgrowing Robin, and I suggested he strike out on his own. That was months before he and Bruce fell out. Giving up Robin was Dick’s choice. Just like giving up Sparrow was mine. Even though I was gone more often than I was here, Bruce never decided I couldn’t be Sparrow anymore and chose another kid to put in my suit. 

“Bruce didn’t take our names from us, and he’s not going to take it from you. If you want to be Robin until you’re thirty, Bruce will probably let you be Robin until you’re thirty. He might suggest you make a new name for yourself, but he’d never force you out. On the other hand, if you feel like you’ve outgrown Robin or that being Robin has cost you too much, Bruce isn’t going to force you to stay either. You just have to talk to him and he’ll respect your choice.”

“How can you be so sure?” Jason asked.

This time Harry smiled and it made him look years younger. “Because you’re his son, and he might have a hard time showing it sometimes, but there’s nothing Bruce values more than family. Not even his crusade.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I figure that since Tim was gonna be Sparrow instead of Robin, then Jason wouldn't need to die for him to join the family. So he just "almost" died. Then I decided I needed some Jason and Harry interaction, so this chapter was born. But the plot of the chapter just completely got away from me and I'm not sure what happens as the result of it.
> 
> I do want Tim to actually be Sparrow for a while and not just interim Robin, so I can't decide if Jason goes back to being Robin or goes straight to being (a less homicidal) Red Hood. Eventually Damian is gonna come in and be Robin, but someone else needs to carry the name in the meantime if not Jason. 
> 
> Maybe Stephanie will have a run as Robin before becoming Batgirl and giving Robin to Damian? IDK. Also, it's gonna be interesting to see Tim as Sparrow to Damian's Robin (if I ever get around to writing that. I've never written Damian before. But I'd never written Jason before either, until I wrote this chapter... That being said, how did I do my first time writing Jason?)

**Author's Note:**

> Would you like to see more in this universe? You can [send me a prompt](http://littleredtriskele.tumblr.com) on tumblr, and I won't promise to write it, but I will consider it.
> 
> Or you could just leave a review. That always gets me in a writing mood. Yeah do that. Leave a review and we'll see about continuing this.


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